Dear Crazy Driver,
I’m aware I do not own a massive, expensive SUV such as yours, but if I did, I’d be more concerned with it’s well being. You on the other hand, clearly do not care about my not so luxurious vehicle, or yours.
You cut me off in the round-about. I know I know…those round-abouts are tricky. So, I let that one slide without getting terribly agitated.
When I passed you in the right-hand lane, I don’t think you saw me. That rush you were in whilst zipping around that circular confusing roadway must have subsided, as you were driving approximately 20 MPH in a 35 MPH zone. Yeah…Those speed limits can also be tricky. Sometimes 25, sometimes 35 – I let that one slide also. I was doing everything in my power to give you benefit of the doubt.
I do have a breaking point.
It was reached when you made a switch in speeds (again) and decided our vehicles were in a romantic relationship. Your fancy bumper might as well latch onto my simple, not so lavish one. Would you prefer if I just pulled you to your destination? I was tempted to give my brake a little tap, but then fear overcame me as I pictured your obnoxiously enormous automobile sending me to the heavens.
I’m curious, how many accidents have you been in? You must be very wealthy. Do you drop cash for new fancy modes of transportation regularly? Does the dealership (and auto mechanic) (and traffic cops) know you by name? Do you slow ‘er down in school zones?
So many questions.
Ultimately, I don’t know how you are alive, some people have all the luck. I wish you would take your money and hire a personal driver. Seriously.
In the interest of everyone,
The Girl in the Crappy Malibu.